


spooky scary skeletons

by Anonymous



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen, Happy Halloween Folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-13 23:17:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16481636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Morgan wants to be a knight for a Halloween party, so it only makes sense that a friend would accompany her dressed as a prince.





	spooky scary skeletons

**Author's Note:**

> "I bet I could write a fic based on this," I said the first time Spooky Scary Skeletons popped up on tumblr this month. 
> 
> "Oh crap I forgot about this fic," I said two days ago at 9 pm before staying up until 4 in the morning finishing this. 
> 
> Listen, Morgana (Morgan), Merlin, Gwen, and (maybe) Arthur are the characters who play an important role in this fic, the rest are background characters. 
> 
> ~~I have no idea what I'm doing~~

“I want to be a knight.” 

Morgan stares at the familiar painting of a knight Merlin had made for her birthday a few years ago. The steady rhythm of pen on paper stops as Gwen turns her attention to her friend.

“A knight?”

“Yes,” Morgan says, reluctantly dragging her attention away from the painting to meet Gwen’s puzzled stare. “For the Halloween party.”

“Oh!” Gwen laughs, “I forgot about that, I thought you meant an actual knight.”

“Well,” she responds, a smirk making its way onto her face, “I do believe I could pull it off.”

The other girl nods with a jokingly solemn expression, lips quivering as she fights against a smile. “Sir Morgan, the noblest of them all.”

They dissolve into laughter until they’re both wiping tears off their cheeks. Once the laughter dies down, Gwen speaks again.

“I wish I hadn’t already agreed to dress up with the others, I would’ve dressed as a princess for you to escort.” 

Morgan huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “It’s fine, Gwen. I’ll just convince Arthur to dress up as a prince for me.”

“‘ _Convince_.’” The disbelieving tone in Gwen’s voice sends both girls into another bout of laughter.

“Yes, _convince_ ,” Morgan responds through her laughter. “I just need to be very persuasive, that’s all.”

⁋

“So, have you caved and agreed to dress up with the rest of the idiots yet?”

“No, I will not be dressing up and making a fool of myself with the rest of them,” Arthur says, turning toward his sister with a scowl. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“I was just asking,” Morgan responds easily, but she can’t help a small smirk at the younger boy’s frustration. The smirk grows as an idea occurs to her, but she quickly schools it into a look of casual indifference before Arthur can see. “Though I’m sure Gwen would appreciate it if you did.” 

The boy’s scowl fades into a thoughtful frown as Morgan excuses herself, fighting back a victorious grin.

⁋

“I’ve decided Arthur isn’t worth the blackmail material it’ll take to get him to dress up with me for the Halloween party,” Morgan says as she sits down beside Gwen on their usual park bench. Merlin, sitting on the other side of Gwen, glances up from his sketchpad as both friends greet the raven haired girl.

“What are you dressing up as?” Merlin asks, sitting up straight to see Morgan over Gwen’s head. 

“A knight,” she responds, leaning back with a sigh, “but it seems I’ll be going alone.”

“So what was Arthur meant to dress up as?” 

“I need a prince to escort if I’m flipping the script, don’t I?” At Morgan’s response, the dark haired boy throws his head back in laughter. Gwen smacks his arm lightly, but she grins in amusement alongside him and Morgan, who can’t help but laugh as well. 

“Well,” he says eventually, after a comfortable lull in the conversation, “I suppose I could dress up with you, if the great Sir Morgan deems me worthy of such an honor.”

“You know what, Merlin? That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

⁋

Merlin trudges through the house behind Morgan, skillfully ignoring the disapproving glare her father sends his way as he struggles to carry his art supplies to her room.

“I could help carry that, you know,” she mutters, keeping her voice low enough that Uther doesn’t hear. Her friend shakes his head, shooting her an apologetic glance before returning his focus to the ground in an effort to avoid tripping. 

“I appreciate that, but I don’t think Uther would approve of me letting you carry things and he already dislikes me enough as is.”

“Well,” Morgan sighs, “at least he’ll be out of town for the party.” 

They settle into silence as the two make their way to their destination, Morgan having fallen back behind Merlin to catch anything he may drop. She takes the lead again to open her door and guide her friend to the spot on the floor where he can dump his supplies. 

“Are we working on the floor?” He asks as he sorts through the bags and boxes dropped carefully onto the floor. 

“We can,” Morgan says, “or we can make Arthur drag up a table for us.”

Merlin laughs, shaking his head at the girl’s usual amused and mischievous smirk. “Should save the irritating him for later, when your armor arrives. It might be better to work on the floor anyway.”

“I thought you said the armor wasn’t coming until next Saturday,” she says. The boy laughs again, a bit sheepish as he gestures vaguely at his supplies. 

“Surprise?” Morgan plops onto the ground beside him, a wordless question in her eyes. “I know some people, I pulled a few strings to get it early.”

“You devious little -” Her words are cut off by her bedroom door slamming open, revealing none other than Morgan’s half-brother in all his bed hair and pajama-clad glory.

“Guess we don’t have to worry about irritating him,” Merlin says in a stage whisper, eyes alight with amusement at the pout on Arthur’s face. 

“Shut up, Merlin,” the blond grumbles, stumbling his way towards Morgan’s bed. 

“What are you doing? Can’t you sleep in your own room?” Arthur shakes his head at his sister’s question before falling onto the bed, spread out like a starfish with his head turned toward the two. 

“Father decided I either have to get up and have breakfast with him or get up and make sure Merlin doesn’t do anything ‘untowardly.’” Whatever Arthur says next is lost in his yawn, one that makes Merlin yawn and then makes Morgan yawn and glare at the boy on her bed. He continues without noticing her glare, kicking his feet a little as he talks. “I mean, who even uses untowardly anymore? _Untowardly_?”

“People with half a brain cell more than you, it seems,” Morgan answers easily, glare still firmly in place as Merlin busies himself with continuing to set out supplies. He knows better than to get involved in an argument between the siblings.

“Of course, Father’s an idiot if he thinks _Mer_ lin will try anything,” Arthur continues, ignoring the insult. “Anyone with eyes can see that he clearly fancies the girl from the museum.”

“Arthur, _no_ -”

“What girl?” Merlin’s cheeks redden as Morgan turns her attention to him, irritation at her brother abandoned in favor of interrogating the furiously blushing boy. 

“The one from the museum we went to for Hunith’s birthday, remember? We all went and surprised her?”

“Oh, her! I remember her, such a sweet girl.” A pause, and the dark haired boy can practically _hear_ the smirk in the silence. “Quite pretty, too.”

Merlin slides an empty bag over his head, muttering death threats as the conversation goes on.

“Oh, come now, Merlin, don’t be like that,” Morgan says, sly grin audible in her voice, “you know I can keep a secret.”

“To make jokes at my expense that no one will understand,” the boy grumbled, pulling the bag down further.

“Trust me,” Arthur says, voice slurring as he begins to fall back to sleep, “everyone will understand.”

⁋

Morgan and Merlin stand side by side, surveying their half-completed costumes. The silvery-grey armor and a wooden sword, painted the same steel color of a real sword and engraved with fine details lie side by side, Merlin’s princely attire lying nearby.

“Pretty good, yeah?” 

“I’d say so,” Morgan says, a smile growing on her face as excitement for the coming party fills her. “This will be the best party we’ve ever thrown.”

“What makes you say that?” He says more than asks, sarcasm and a bit of pride in his voice. “Certainly it can’t be that we’ll have the best costumes there.”

“Well, I _do_ have a sword at my disposal this time around.” Merlin laughs, waking the still sleeping Arthur, who throws a pillow at the younger boy without a thought for their costumes. Both Merlin and Morgan react instantly, moving to catch the pillow lest it accidentally mess up their carefully laid out supplies. It falls to the floor after hitting the girl’s arm and as one they turn to the boy grumbling into a pillow with matching glares.

“You _prat_ -”

“If you had messed up -”

Arthur startles awake in less than a second and sprints out of the room, two irate people in his wake.

⁋

“Alright,” Merlin mutters, mostly to himself, “I think… that should do it.”

“You’ve finished?” Morgan hovers over his shoulder, watching her friend put the finishing touches on his circlet. Small blue-grey gemstones adorn the silver circlet all the way around, but on the front where the crown dipped down in a v-shape was a flat, white, diamond-shaped stone with fine silver designs painted around the edges. “It looks as though it came straight from a fairytale.”

“Thank you, that was the goal,” he responds laughing as he inspects his handiwork. “I’m glad it turned out well.”

“That’s good and all,” she continues, snatching the headpiece from him carefully and placing it on her desk, “but now you’ve got to try on the whole outfit. I’ll text Gwen and we can make a show of it.”

“I’m not going to be able to get out of this am I?”

“Of course not.”

“Thought so.”

⁋

“Alright,” Gwen says, pushing her way into Morgan’s room, “let’s see them.”

Morgan pokes Merlin on the arm, earning a few less than savory words and a glare, but he picks up the final pieces he had yet to put on - the circlet, his leather vambraces, and his boots.

“What, aren’t you going to show off the finished product?” Before Morgan can say anything, Merlin answers for her. 

“Of course she is.” He turns to the armorless knight with a warning glare. “Isn’t she?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbles, ignoring her friend’s satisfied hum. “Just give me a sec.”

Gathering her armor and trudging into her walk-in closet, Morgan shuts the door to hide herself from Gwen’s view until she is completely ready.

“Gwen’s standing facing the hall so she won’t see till you’re ready,” Merlin tells her from outside the closet. “Do you want some help? I’ve got your sword, by the way.”

“Oh, shoot,” she mutters, glancing at her empty scabbard. “Hadn’t realized I’d forgotten it. And yeah, some help would be appreciated, thank you, Merlin.”

The boy slips into the fortunately large closet and rests the sword against the wall. It only takes a few moments longer to finish putting on Morgan’s armor, the two of them having practiced over and over in a fit of excitement that made Arthur, whose room was across the hall from hers, shout at them after dropping pieces of her armor onto the floor one too many times. 

That same excitement floods Morgan’s veins as she carefully lifts her sword from where it sits and slides it into her scabbard. 

“Ready, Sir Morgan?” Her friend asks, a small smile on his face as he examines their finished handiwork. 

“I do believe so,” she replies, opening the door to step back into her room, head held high as though she were truly a knight of old. Merlin follows in her wake, standing at his full height as Morgan’s acting rubs off on him. 

“Alright Gwen,” the prince calls, “you can look now.”

The girl turns slowly, taking in every piece of the shining steel colored armor that covers Morgan, from the pauldrons on her shoulders to the leather vambraces Morgan had bought with small dragon emblems on them to the brown knee-high boots Hunith had gotten at a thrift store with Morgan in mind. 

The chainmail she and Merlin had made by hand, equipped with more steel wire than they knew what to do with and an online tutorial, shifts quietly as Gwen brushes her hand against it, the noise muffled by the gambeson worn under the layers of armor. 

“You two did a brilliant job on the armor.” Noticing the way Morgan grips the hilt of her sword as though her life depends on it, she adds, “though I think you may have done _too_ good with the sword.”

Morgan smiles innocently, withdrawing her hand to her side as Merlin huffs a laugh. 

Merlin’s attire consists of his circlet, a long-sleeved, light blue tunic that stops mid thigh with a belt around his waist, grey leggings, and boots much like Morgan’s. His vambraces, engraved along the edges, slide down his arms slightly, not quite on tight enough.

“Simple,” Gwen observes as she steps forward to assist her friend in repositioning and tightening his vambraces, “but it looks lovely. Definitely fit for a prince.” 

“Thanks.” Merlin glances down at his outfit with a proud grin. 

“No, thank you for inviting me over.” Taking a few steps back, Gwen gestures at the two with a grin of her own. “At the party, no one’ll know what hit them.”

⁋

“You ready, Sir Knight?” Merlin asks, smoothing out an unseen crease in his shirt.

“When you are, milord,” Morgan answers, fingers twitching toward the hilt of her sword eagerly.

“Well, then. Let’s knock ‘em dead.”

Gwen and Elyan, whom Gwen had dragged outside when she received a text from Morgan that she and Merlin had arrived, open the doors for them as they enter the party. 

The two walk side by side, heads held high as though coming straight from a storybook. 

“May I present to you,” Gwen shouts above the music, drawing the attention of the few who had yet to noticed the two new arrivals, “Prince Merlin and Sir Morgan.”

Cheers erupt from the group, compliments on the stunning costumes and a few for the role reversal. 

A faint blush creeps up Merlin’s face and ears, but he keeps his head high, proud of what he and Morgan had made. The knight beside him takes in the cheers with satisfaction and bumps her shoulder against his with a smirk.

“Told you this would be the best party,” she tells him.

“You did,” he agrees.

“What I would like to know,” Arthur shouts as the cheers die down, “is how you ended up late to your own party. Even Gwaine was here before you.”

And indignant “ _hey_!” comes from the far end of the room where Gwaine scowls in mock offense at Arthur’s back as he waves in greeting.

“Easy, had to pick up milord and come back after making sure you were actually ready,” comes Morgan’s remark, earning herself a scowl from her brother and a few laughs from those gathered near the entrance. “Well, come on then, I do believe this is a party!”

With her last comment, Morgan drags Merlin and Gwen onto the dance floor, not waiting to greet everyone. She slowly guides her two friends and her overeager sword toward someone who is clearly in a knight’s costume, but Gwen drags them the other way as she catches onto what she assumes will be a future sword fight.

⁋

“Oh, wow.”

Morgan turns from where she stands on the side of the room speaking with Percival and Leon, both dressed as skeletons. It takes her a bit to see just what has drawn her friend’s attention, but eventually, she spots a familiar looking girl dressed in an admittedly stunning dress.

“Is she dressed as Galadriel?” She asks, startling Merlin out of his dazed stare. 

“Uh, yeah. That’s her favorite character from the Lord of the Rings,” he explains.

“Who is she?” Morgan narrows her eyes at the boy. “Is she the girl from the museum?”

“Yeah, that’s Freya,” Merlin admits, blush returning, and bless his heart, he’s so flustered Morgan can’t find it in herself to tease him. 

“Go on then,” she says instead.

“What?”

“Go on, go talk to her,” she repeats, ignoring his stuttered protests as she shoves him in the direction of the girl now standing on her own. Merlin shakes his head, ready to continue his protests when the girl spots him and waves, to which the boy lets out a pitiful whine and waves with a grimace. “See, now you have to go talk to her.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, glaring darkly at his friend as he moves away from the safety of the wall. “I blame you for this.”

“Oh good, I would love to be able to tell your children that Aunt Morgan was responsible for their parents getting together.”

“ _Morgan_!” She cackles, a perfectly wicked sound, turning to another partygoer.

⁋

“So I noticed Merlin and Freya have been talking.” Morgan looks up from the sword sitting in her lap as Gwen slides into a seat across the table from her. “For quite a while now, actually.”

She hums, smuggly pleased and entirely unashamed. 

“I don’t suppose you had any part in that, did you?” 

“Of course I did, he’d never have talked to her otherwise.”

“Morgan Pendragon,” Gwen says in an attempt to sound scolding, but her growing smile and reluctant laughter take any heat from her words. 

“You know I’m right.”

⁋

The instant Morgan sees Gwen run up to Gwaine, who’s acting as the DJ for the night, she knows what is about to happen. She clears her throat pointedly, disrupting the conversation between Lance and Elyan.

“Is it time?” Lance asks, turning toward the spot Gwaine had set up. As he spots Gwen as well, he stands and kicks Elyan’s shoe. “Let’s go, don’t want to keep her waiting.”

“You may not want to,” Elyan grumbles, rising from his seat, “but I’ll gladly delay this for as long as possible.”

The boys shuffle over to where Leon stands on his own in the middle of the dancefloor, a long-suffering look on his face as he stares at the wall ahead of him as though it has the answers to life itself. 

Mithian settles into a seat the boys had vacated next to Morgan, a grin creeping across her face. “Did Gwen really set them all up to this?”

“I think she mentioned it once and they set each other up,” the knight answers. Percival drags a reluctant Arthur onto the dance floor, summoning a smile from the others. At the sight she adds, “however, I may have suggested to Arthur that he should join them.”

“Is Gwen recording this?” 

“Elena had her camera last I saw it, so I’m not sure who’s recording, but yes,” Morgan laughs, “we will have video evidence.”

“They are _never_ living this down.” Mithian laughs, looking around for Elena or Gwen. 

“Gwen!” Both girls turn to see Elena - dressed as Luna Lovegood, Morgan notes - running, camera in hand, to where Gwen stands with her hand outstretched to receive it. Before she can, Elyan grabs her hand and drags her into the group.

“No way,” he laughs, wrapping his arms around her as she attempts to escape. “If you’re making us do this, you’re doing it with us.”

“Fine, fine,” Gwen says, elbowing her brother in the ribs as he releases her. “Elena -”

“I’ll record,” the blonde promises. 

“C’mon,” Morgan mutters, standing from her seat. “We can get closer to watch.”

The two move to stand beside Gilli on the opposite side of the group from Merlin and Freya, laughing as an all too familiar song starts to play.

“ _Spooky scary skeletons_  
 _Send shivers down your spine_...”

Gwen moves first, the boys following behind closely. It’s clear in the way they move that Gwen has drilled the dance into them, and when Leon stumbles, he’s met with a fierce glare from the girl.

Try as she might, Morgan can’t help the laughter that comes from her as her brother dances to a song he claims to hate with a confused pout on his face. Her laughter is apparently contagious, since Mithian soon dissolves into laughter herself, followed by Gilli and then the rest of those not dancing. She’s sure the recording will pick up on Elena’s amused snort.

⁋

Morgan manages to slip away from the ever disapproving Gwen and finally approaches the other knight.

“Gilli,” she calls in greeting as she stands in front of where he sits in the seat she had previously vacated. 

“Hey, Morgan,” the boy responds with a grin. “Your armor’s fantastic.”

“Yours isn’t too bad either.” It hadn’t been made with the same care and detail as hers had, they both know, but it does look nice. Still, she hasn’t come to talk about costumes.   
She grabs the hilt of her sword with a grin she can’t quite conceal and Gilli returns it with one of his own.

“Oh, you’re on, Pendragon.”

Morgan dances a few steps backward as her fellow knight launches out of his seat, simultaneously drawing his sword with a grace she hadn’t expected from the lanky boy but respects nonetheless.

It is with a joyous shout that she draws her own weapon and blocks her foe’s next blow.

“That the best you can do, Beckett?”

⁋

As the last of the partygoers begin their trips home, Merlin stumbles out to the front yard and collapses onto the grass beside Morgan with a sigh of contentment. “That was fun.”

“I’m in pain,” the now armorless girl groans.

“You’re the one who got into it with Gilli.” He pokes her arm lightly, mindful of the limbs that took the brunt of the blows. “Still, looked like you both enjoyed yourself.”

“Best part of the night.”

“Well, there’s that, then.” They lay in silence after that, enjoying the cool night air. Eventually, Merlin speaks up again, a giddy excitement creeping into his voice. “I asked her out. I - I’m going on a date with Freya.”

Morgan shoots up, bruises forgotten as she turns to her friend. He keeps talking before she can interrogate him, eyes closed and a smile splitting his face.

“There’s a movie she wants to go see, was talking about how she didn’t have anyone to go with so she wasn’t sure she’d go at all.” Merlin laughs before continuing. “And I just - I said I could go with, if she wanted, and we could make it a date.”

“Good for you, Merlin. I’m happy for you,” Morgan says as she settles back onto the ground, laying her head on Merlin’s chest. “I’d say successful party, then, wouldn’t you?”

“Without a doubt.”

⁋

They wake to Arthur’s shrill voice asking, “did you two _sleep_ on the lawn?” 

**Author's Note:**

> If it sounds like there's something missing, there probably is because I cut scenes in an effort to shorten how much I had to write and one really shouldn't be deciding what scenes to cut when exhausted. Let me know, though, because I'll probably come back around to fix this up sometime before next year's Halloween.


End file.
